


Grayzone

by ramona_moon



Category: The Dolan Twins, Video Blogging RPF, Youtube RPF
Genre: Angst, Blood, Captivity, Dolan twins, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fear, Fluff and Angst, Grayzone, Grethan, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Kidnapping, M/M, Original Character(s), Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2020-11-27 03:17:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20941406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ramona_moon/pseuds/ramona_moon
Summary: Grayson finds himself in a nightmare he's been trying to avoid for as long as he's had fame. Ethan won't give up until he knows what happened to his brother, not now. Not after everything.Inspired by the song "Grayzone" by Ida Laurberg.





	1. Who Are You Obsessed With

_Who's been touched by your hands? _ _Where am I in your plans?_

* * *

  
It was almost time.

If she were someone else, she would likely be feeling the buzz of anticipation under her skin and the rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins. There would be nerves, perhaps fear, maybe a touch of giddiness as she grew further from planning and closer to action.

She didn't feel any of that, though. No, she had been working on this for far too long to allow human weakness to steal away all of her hard work. Her restraint was hard-earned, practiced, decisive. There would be time to lose control later; if everything worked out, she would let herself feel the rush of happiness and fulfillment she'd spent three years building towards.

As she pored over the blueprint in front of her, she saw something out of the corner of her eye that drew her attention away. Moving aside the documents scattered beside her, she grabbed the picture frame and brought it close, studying it the way she had done thousands of times. A faint smile formed on her lips and she steadied her breathing to calm her heartbeat. She shouldn't be looking at this right now; it always threatened to tear down her defenses like this.

She had this picture copied and backed up in several different places, just in case. It had always been her most prized possession and it only became more important to her over time. It represented the beginning, the day when everything changed, when it all became so clear to her.

She remembered vividly the moments leading up to it and the moment immediately afterward when it was like her world shifted into focus. A tear rolled down her cheek as she stared at the photo of she and the twins, a small show of emotion that she couldn't restrain. She could hear the din of the other girls in her ears already, could see --

_\-- the lights just ahead of her illuminating the twins and the 4OU backdrop. She could feel her palms sweating as she clutched her artwork in shaking hands, careful not to hold on too tightly in case she crumpled the drawings._

_She felt like she had just barely gained her composure when she was called up for her turn. She wasn't positive she remembered how to walk, but somehow her body was moving her forward. _

_Grayson had just leaned over to whisper something in Ethan's ear and she welcomed the opportunity to take them in before their attention turned her into a useless bundle of nerves and stuttering._

_Ethan had the faintest hint of blue left in his hair and Grayson had his hat on backwards, a look she loved so much on him. She watched the muscles ripple beneath Grayson's skin as he let his hand drop from Ethan's shoulder, both of them turning to set their beautiful eyes on her._

_"Hey, I'm Gray--"_

The sound of blood rushing in her ears drowned him out and she felt herself being pulled away as if through a tunnel, the buzz of her phone jolting her back to reality. The picture frame had slipped from her hands but she caught it, slightly annoyed by the interruption to her daydream. She glanced at the screen to see a message from her mom; her irritation grew and she set the phone face down.

She rolled up the blueprint and gathered the more relevant documents in front of her. She had been doing this for so long that sometimes she forgot to appreciate just how meticulous she was.

Her eyes scanned over the various photographs, documents, and lists in front of her, orderly chaos that would look insane if it weren't for how organized she kept it all. Flanking her desk were two cabinets containing her most important research documents, including color-coded hard drives that contained everything from pictures to screenshots to recorded conversations.

On the far wall, a shelving unit was filled with more documents and old merchandise from when she was younger. The walls were covered with her artwork, Grayson in a dozen different mediums with the occasional glimpse of Ethan. She knew how cliché it was each time she pinned up another piece but she didn't care. She was a talented artist, not some run-of-the-mill psychopath scratching out faces in graphite.

As she filed away the documents she no longer needed, her phone buzzed again. She hesitated, knowing it was her mother again and not wanting to engage in a conversation she couldn't finish. She planned on getting rid of her phone tomorrow, at least until things settled down.

She pocketed it as she put the remaining documents in a folder, and just as she clicked off her desk lamp and started out of the room she felt her pocket vibrating continuously. She sighed, walking into her bedroom and flopping down on the bed as she answered and waited for her mother to start speaking.

"...Lydia?"

"Hello," she answered, forgetting to keep the irritation out of her voice.

"You don't talk to me for weeks and all I get is 'hello?' You could at least _pretend _that you're happy to hear from me."

She rolled her eyes. "Sorry. Hi, mom! Wow, I'm so glad you called! Yippee!"

"Just because I've grown accustomed to the fact that you clearly aren't interested in maintaining our relationship doesn't mean I don't feel hurt when you mock me, Lydia."

Oh, jesus. The guilt trip had arrived far earlier in this conversation than she expected.

"Fine, I'm sorry. But you know that isn't true. I'm just... really busy, that's all."

"I have a hard time understanding what you're so busy with when you barely tell me what you're up to. Then again, I guess I spend a lot of time not understanding you. I still don't know what to tell people when they ask how you are, just like I didn't know what to tell them when they asked why you up and moved across the country."

"Why don't you just tell them I'm dead? That'd probably be easier. Or you could tell them that I'm an adult and it's none of their fucking business?"

She was already getting tired of this conversation. She wasn't sure what she had expected. It always went like this.

"You were 18 when you left, Lyd, you were hardly an adult. If I'd had the legal ability to keep you here, I would've. I wanted so much more for you than to become some starving 20-year-old artist on the streets of L.A.. You're so smart, you could've really made something of yourself. You could have been successful!"

She gritted her teeth. "Make up your mind, mother. Either I'm not an adult yet or I've somehow squandered all my potential already. If you're gonna pick apart my character, at least be consistent."

She heard her mom sputter, trying to think of a comeback, and cut her off before she could start up again. "Anyway, I've told you before to stop worrying. I'm doing fine. Better than fine, actually. I've been working on a project for a long while now and it's finally going to pay off soon."

"Oh. Well! That's... that's wonderful. What kind of project?"

Lydia glanced at the solitary piece of art she had framed in her room, an elegant watercolor of she and Grayson.

"A passion project. I can't say much about it but it's making me really happy, I promise." She pulled her phone away to glance at the time. "Listen, I'm up early tomorrow and it's getting late. I've gotta go."

"Okay. Maybe you can tell me more about it soon. I like hearing when you're happy, Lydia. It makes _me_ happy."

She grimaced. She hated when her tone shifted to supportive, loving mom. It was easier when she was judgmental, disappointed mom.

"Yeah, I'll tell you more about it sometime." _Liar, _she thought. "I've really gotta go though. I'm sorry."

"Okay. Goodnight, sweetheart."

"Goodnight." She paused, contemplating for a moment before adding a hurried, "I love you."

She dropped her phone down at her side and sat staring into the darkness for a while, trying to silence the noise in her brain.  
  


* * *

  
Slipping underneath the sheets, she went through her mental checklist to make sure she remembered everything she needed to do tomorrow.

As she walked herself through the plan, she could see Grayson's face in her mind's eye. The vision flickered back to that day, his backwards hat, his perfect grin.

_"--son! What's your name?" Oh my god, he was even more stunning up close. Wait, what did he say? Name. Her name. Why can't she remember her name?_

_She heard Ethan chuckle. "You're so cute. I'm Ethan! It's very nice to meet you."_

_Finding her words, she looked back and forth between them and said, "These are for Lydia, I'm you. I-- I mean, I'm Lydia. And these are for you. I drew them myself." Fuck._

_Grayson and Ethan both laughed and it was music to her ears. She smiled, feeling the heat on her cheeks and hoping she didn't look as sweaty as she felt. Grayson took the artwork from her hands and gaped at it in awe, uttering a quiet, "Oh my gosh!"_

As she remembered what it felt like, having his hand graze hers and wondering if he felt the electricity that passed between them, she began to trace the hand he had touched down her body. It came to rest on her stomach, feeling the anticipation coiling from within.

_"Woah, these are sick!" Ethan chimed in. He stepped forward to pull Lydia into a hug. "Thank you so much," he said as she melted into his embrace._

_She said a small, "You're welcome," and looked at Grayson, who was still taking in the drawings. He looked up at her and closed his mouth, passing them to Ethan._

_"Thank you, Lydia. Come here," he said, pulling her into a tight hug. She loved both of the twins, but this was the moment she had been waiting for. Being in Grayson's arms felt so right. Ethan's hug was warm, but Grayson's arms felt_ _like they were where she was meant to be._

_"You mean everything to me," she whispered as tears quickly formed and spilled down her cheeks. "You mean everything to _ _me_,_" he whispered back, his words travelling through her entire body._

A chill swept over her and she shivered. She could swear that Grayson had just whispered in her ear again, that he was right next to her. Her hand clenched around the black fabric of her nightie, pulling it up and out of the way as she continued downward.

She arched her back slightly as her fingers made contact with the most sensitive part of her, trying to pretend he was the one doing this to her.

_When he pulled away and saw the tears on her face, he wiped one away with a smile. "You are so pretty," he said softly. She was soaring, riding high from his words and his touch._

_They took their picture together, her requested pose of Grayson carrying her in his arms while Ethan's arm wrapped around Grayson's shoulders. She didn't want her feet to hit the ground again; she wanted to stay this way forever. It ended all too soon, and after they shared their goodbyes she turned to leave._

She felt the prick of tears behind her closed eyelids. If she could, she would make the memory end there. It didn't, a fact which used to tear her apart. Now, though, she knew it was necessary. It made everything complete.

It had brought her here.

_She paused to get her phone back from Kyle then turned again, wanting one last look at the twins. The next girl in line was approaching them and Lydia was begrudgingly struck by how gorgeous she was, tall and blonde and lithe._

_She scanned the twins' faces, landing on Grayson and watching as he took in the girl's form in a subtle up-and-down glance._

_She watched how he shook her hand and lingered there for a moment; how he continued to take her in as she spoke with Ethan; how his hand rested on the small of her back after they hugged. She had still been riding the high from their interaction. It felt now like she was falling back to Earth, hard and fast._

_Someone noticed she was still standing there and ushered her away, but as she turned to leave she caught Grayson speaking in a low tone to the blonde. She watched his lips as he said, "Wow, you are _ _so __beautiful."_

_She knew they complimented everyone. She had even heard other girls' stories from their earlier shows. It was so easy to pretend she was being treated differently when she was right in front of them, when it was happening and felt so personal and so real. She might have continued to feel that way if she didn't see what she did. She got "pretty". This girl got "beautiful", a hungry stare, a drawn out touch._

_She left with fresh tears in her eyes. Her mom assumed that her sobs in the car were from being overwhelmed, a manic, teenage glee from meeting her idols._

_They were not. She was destroyed. She was not special. At home she glared at herself in the mirror, staring daggers through her wet eyelashes, critical of every flaw and everything that made her far from Grayson's obvious type. Not athletic enough. Not thin enough. Not blonde enough._

_She was tempted to give up, to leave the fandom and throw out her merch and close her fan account. She felt sick at the idea of speaking to other girls who had felt the same way she did in their presence. She felt sick at the idea of being like all the rest of them. Millions of them, blurring together. Even the gorgeous blonde was unlikely to be remembered or seen by them again._

The mix of feelings recalled from that day and from the weeks that followed it welled up in Lydia as her fingers continued to work. Her chest felt tight, tears falling down along her face and into her hair, her ragged breath hitching slightly.

She felt the sorrow of young Lydia give way to the euphoria she felt now, knowing that she had changed things. Soon, she would be noticed. She would be remembered. Grayson would know what she had known all along, the singular fact that motivated her to keep going the past three years: they belonged together. She deserved him now.

She was going to be his.

She was going to show him how much she loved him.

Grayson was going to be hers.

Grayson.

_Grayson._

"Grayson!"

When her release came, the tears had become ones of joy. She cried out, free hand grabbing at the sheets beneath her, tilting her head back as the corners of her open mouth turned up into a blissful smile.

Sleep took her quickly that night as the hum in her body ebbed back into silence. She slept dreamlessly, soundly.

It was almost time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first fic about the twins and I honestly started writing it in my head the moment I heard Grayzone. I've always had fic ideas for the twins but I never got around to writing any of them until now. I hope you're enjoying this one so far.
> 
> There will be chapters from the twins' POV, not just Lydia's.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading and I hope you stick around to see what I have planned! ♥


	2. A Stranger To You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always like to know when music has inspired someone to write something, so I figured I would make a note of any songs that inspire me while writing this. This whole fic is obviously inspired by "Grayzone" but parts of the other chapters have different song influences, too.
> 
> For this chapter, it was "Factory" by Band of Horses.

_Looking through, knowing I'm a stranger... a stranger to you._

* * *

_  
I don’t have to do anything today._

Grayson was stunned at the thought, turning it over in his mind as his eyes fluttered open.

He hadn't set any alarms, deciding to see what happened if he just woke up on his own. He rolled over to face the window, trying to discern what time it was from the light filtering in.

Reaching for his phone, he placed a silent bet with himself. _It has to be, like, 8:00 at the earliest_. He hadn't gone to bed very late, still unable to kick the habit and frankly enjoying turning in at a reasonable hour. Still, he had been running on fumes for months and his body would probably want him to sleep in for at _least_ a couple of hours.

Blinking groggily at his phone, his vision focused and he let out an incredulous laugh. It was six in the morning. "Of course," he breathed as he stretched his arms overhead, closing his eyes again. A moment later he was sighing in resignation as he sat up, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. There was no way he could go back to sleep now.

Grayson stared himself down in the mirror as he brushed his teeth, lost in thought. It had been a week since they'd posted their video with Shane. It had felt like entering a different world entirely, waking up that first Wednesday morning; it was freeing and terrifying and such a long time coming. He'd been worried that not having a video to plan or things to film would leave him restless, but he and Ethan had been falling easily into new routines together and separately.

It felt like they were finally figuring out who they were.

He padded silently down the hallway to Ethan's room, hearing the soft snores from within. Lingering at the closed door for a moment, he considered the option of alone time. Ethan had opted to skip some of their beach mornings this week in favor of sleep and Grayson had welcomed the opportunity for silent reflection and solitude. But he entered Ethan’s room quietly, deciding he'd prefer the company of his sibling today.

"Ethan." Grayson placed a hand on Ethan's exposed arm after approaching his bedside, nudging him gently. Ethan's snoring stopped but he remained still, half his face obscured by his second pillow.

"_E_," he tried again, this time shaking his arm from side to side. Nothing. He sighed. _The more things change, the more they stay the same._

In one swift motion, he had pulled the second pillow out from under Ethan's face and was bludgeoning him with it. He was always amazed at the way Ethan would slowly rouse even while Grayson beat the hell out of him.

"_Dude_," Ethan protested blearily.

"Bro, get up."

"Wha' time's it?" slurred Ethan, arms raised to protect himself from Grayson's onslaught.

"Uhh… 6:15-ish," he admitted sheepishly, feeling like his twin had been sufficiently pummeled and tossing the pillow back to him. Ethan caught it as he groaned in protest, bringing it down over his face.

"Are you _kidding me, _Grayson?" He grinned at Ethan's muffled exasperation and watched him drag the pillow down to his chest, revealing a sleepy, unimpressed face. "You do know we can actually, like, sleep in if we want to now?"

"Come on, don't be a little bitch. Come surfing with me," Grayson pleaded, grin never leaving his face at the sight of his grumpy twin.

Ethan rolled his eyes and snuggled back into his pillows, shutting his eyes firmly. "No, Gray, I will not go surfing with you at six-fuckin'-fifteen in the morning. Goodnight."

"Suit yourself," Grayson shrugged, feigning indifference. It felt too risky to express his disappointment; he didn't want to make things weird. What happened a few weeks ago was stuck in the back of his mind no matter how hard he tried to shake it, coloring his interactions with Ethan despite his best efforts. He was grateful that Ethan hadn’t seemed to notice and wondered if he even remembered. If he didn’t, Grayson did _not_ want to be the one to remind him.

He resigned himself to avocado toast for one.  
  


* * *

  
Lydia stepped out of the shower, adrenaline from her early morning workout still thrumming beneath her skin. Her practiced mastery over her emotions was really being tested today. She eyed herself in the mirror as she toweled off, careful around the peeling, sensitive skin of her newest tattoo.

When she saw herself, Lydia was no longer angry or disappointed. She remembered the first time she ran into someone from back home, the first Christmas after she moved away when her mother’s wistful tone was enough to force a visit. She had been at a café when a familiar figure walked in and caught her attention, her eyes involuntarily darting up from her book before she could stop herself.

_“Lydia?”_

_The eye contact had been accidental and turning her head away quickly had done nothing to stop the girl from noticing her. She cursed under her breath as Holly approached, quickly rearranging her expression into an imitation of happy surprise._

_“Holly! How’s it going?” she said in an overly high-pitched voice, setting her book down and standing up as Holly beamed at her while opening her arms expectantly. She stepped into the hug, hiding her reluctance._

_“Holy shit, Lyd, I haven’t seen you in forever!” Holly exclaimed as she released Lydia from her embrace. Lydia shrugged with a smile._

_“Yeah, been busy. I live in L.A. now and it’s hard to get back out here, y’know?”_

_Holly had clearly stopped paying attention partway through Lydia’s sentence. A satisfied feeling settled in to replace her impatience as she watched Holly’s eyes scan her figure and take in the change._

Lydia’s plan had shifted somewhat over the years. As she grew up and gained more knowledge and information, things that were relevant to achieve her goal became increasingly apparent and others that served little purpose fell away. Her physical appearance had always felt like an integral part of her plan and she had wasted no time figuring out how to look more like the stunning girls who caught Grayson’s eye. This conversation had been the first time she knew her efforts were paying off.

_“Wow, you look great,” Holly remarked, finally looking back up at Lydia’s face. “Did you lose weight?”_

_“I started working out and eating better. Just a few little changes like that,” Lydia said, downplaying the grueling hours of gym time and the strict regimen that got her here. She had always been pretty, but Gray deserved more than pretty. He deserved someone who shared the same dedication and discipline as he did._

_“Little changes? Girl, you look hot. I mean, not that you weren’t— like, you were always pretty, just—“_

_“It’s okay,” Lydia laughed. “I know what you mean. And thank you, I guess I did work pretty hard.” They chatted for a while longer and made plans to see each other later in Lydia’s visit, plans which she had no intention of keeping._

She felt a swell of appreciation in her chest as she recalled that interaction. As annoying as it was to run into someone from her past while attempting to distance herself from her former life entirely, it was validating to know she had changed so noticeably. Being ogled by guys in L.A. who didn’t know her before didn't count; they meant nothing to her. She wasn’t theirs and never would be.

Her hands trembled slightly as she got dressed, layering a sundress over her bathing suit. As she put what she needed into her bag, she focused on her breathing again. All the grounding techniques in the world couldn’t quell her excitement, and she decided to allow herself to feel it right now. She knew what she needed to do and she had more than one fail-safe to fall back on in case things didn’t go her way. Everything was ready.

As she shut the car door and settled in behind the wheel, she allowed herself one last, shaky breath before closing her eyes and redirecting her energy into a focused determination. Her new life felt closer than it ever had. Nothing would change that now.  
  


* * *

  
Grayson pulled himself up into the Jeep, settling in to the driver’s seat and starting the engine. The sky was a brighter blue now, horizon tinged with a pale yellow as dawn began to give way to sunrise. He felt calm in the stillness of the morning, forcing himself to stay in the moment instead of attempting to capture it as his fingers instinctively grazed his phone.

He and Ethan had been dark on social media following the video release. They had discussed the idea beforehand, feeling like it might help them reconnect to the more private side of their life, but after the backlash began it had felt necessary. He knew that people would always find a reason to be critical; he had anticipated some unhappiness about their decision and that some fans would fall away.

What he and Ethan had not expected were the harsh comments painting them as dramatic or lazy or selfish. He tried to remind himself that their supporters would remain, tried to focus on the thousands of positive comments and messages, but the part of him that recoiled at the very thought of transparency was impossible to silence. His brain was in a constant battle with itself, torn between feeling satisfied and relieved about their decision and feeling embarrassed that people were discussing his and Ethan’s once-private feelings. Angry, mostly at himself, for being unable to continue handling everything with discretion. Hopeless in the face of criticism that willfully ignored the painful experience of watching their best friend die while doing everything in their power to spare him the reality of their sorrow.

So Grayson had stopped engaging with social media in any way, neither posting nor reading, and Ethan had done the same. Much like their weekly videos, social media had become a huge part of their daily life in the past five years and intentionally avoiding it took a lot of restraint. It was freeing, though, and he found himself needing it less and less. He was coming to realize that his thoughts during moments of silence weren’t as terrifying as he believed; moreso, he was coming to understand how important it was to acknowledge them and address them. Ethan was less sold on this idea, but Grayson had been ever-arriving at the inclination to talk to a professional.

He inhaled the ocean air and turned up his music to let it envelop him fully, his attention drawn to the lyrics that fit his current introspection so well: _I f__eel awful, and I believe time gets wasted in this misery._ The song stirred something in him that brought a small smile to his lips. The bad days were still so hard, but these moments of peace and the clarity that often followed felt worthwhile. He felt regret rising from not pushing hard enough for Ethan’s company, but he quickly stifled the feeling with the knowledge that he had all day to be with his brother.  
  


* * *

  
Grayson carried his surfboard up the beach, grateful that no one else had arrived yet. Sometimes his attempts at privacy were thwarted a lot sooner than he’d like, but today he had only seen one or two people walking along the beach while he surfed.

Since it was quiet, he decided to stow the board and spend some time swimming before he headed home. As he made his way to the vehicle, he noticed another car a short distance away and watched as a woman around his age straightened up, pulling her bag out from the backseat. She pulled off her sundress, toned skin glinting in the morning light. Grayson caught himself and turned to look away, not wanting his stare to make her uncomfortable.

As he began to secure the board inside the Jeep, he heard footsteps behind him. “Um, hi, I’m so sorry to bother you,” came a soft, hesitant voice. He stepped back onto the ground and turned to see the woman standing there, one hand rubbing her opposite forearm nervously. Up close, he noted the presence of faint freckles across her pale skin. Her ginger hair was loosely secured in a braid. No matter how many times he talked to attractive girls, he always felt just as flustered inside; his experience only afforded him the ability to mask it effectively.

“You’re Grayson Dolan,” she stated. He smiled politely at her, wondering if there was anything else accompanying that thought. “I mean, duh, obviously you know that you’re Grayson Dolan and don’t need some total stranger telling you, I guess it was a question even though I also know the answer so it wasn’t really helpful for either of us and— I’m going to shut up now,” she finished, a blush creeping onto her face as she rambled. It deepened as she cast her eyes downward and Grayson laughed.

“It’s all good. Yeah, I’m Grayson. What’s your name?” he asked, voice even and practiced. He met fans all the time and this reaction to their recognition of him was not an uncommon one. He held his hand out to shake hers, hoping it would ease some of her nerves.

“I’m Lydia,” she said, having trouble looking at his face as she took his hand in hers. She did, though, light blue eyes meeting his dark hazel ones. “I know this is probably so annoying but I’m a _huge_ fan. I met you and Ethan in Philly a few years back.”

He smiled as he let go of her hand. “No, it’s okay! Thank you for supporting me and my brother for so long, that’s really cool to hear. Did we meet on tour?” He always felt his stomach do a little flip when he remembered the tour. Those memories held a lot of emotion; they highlighted some of the best and most enjoyable times of his and Ethan’s career. He also always associated them with his dad’s cancer diagnosis and how hard it was to carry on being the Dolan Twins when they felt so afraid and upset.

“Yeah,” Lydia smiled and nodded. Her smile faded a bit and she continued, “I’m really sorry about your dad. And about everything. I have to admit, I was sad when I saw your video and found out Dolan Twin Tuesdays aren’t going to be a thing anymore, but I was sadder to hear how tough things have been for you guys.”

Grayson nodded, his hand coming to the back of his neck. It never stopped being a disorienting phenomenon, having strangers talk about intimate parts of his life even though they didn’t truly know him. He understood, which didn’t stop his inner critic from reprimanding him once again for sharing his private feelings online and helping feed the delusion that these people knew him on a personal level.

“Thank you, that’s sweet of you. Do you want to take a picture or something?” he asked, hoping his tone didn’t come off as dismissive. He just wanted to be by himself again, deciding he would go back for his towel and head home once they were done talking rather than sticking around to swim.

Lydia’s eyes lit up. “Oh, would you mind? That would be great!” she said excitedly. “Hold on, my phone is somewhere in here.” She dropped her bag to the ground and crouched beside it, rooting through it hurriedly.

Grayson watched her for a moment then turned back to the Jeep, feeling like his gaze was only making her flustered and was prolonging her fumbling search for the phone. When the sound of her rummaging ceased and he glanced back, he was confused for a split second to find she was no longer beside her bag. Before he could turn around again, he felt a sudden, sharp pain in his neck and his hand flew to the spot immediately. “Ow, fuck” he muttered, thinking something must have stung him.

It only took a moment for his vision to begin blurring. He reached out to steady himself against the Jeep as he tried to find the words to apologize to the fan and warn her about the mystery bug. He felt her grab onto him as his hand slipped along the white frame and he stumbled, finding it increasingly difficult to remain upright. She was strong, a thought that surprised him and felt too far away from him all at once. She started walking and he shuffled along with her, brain foggy as his surroundings grew unfocused and the light of the low sun seemed to grow dim.

He became faintly aware of her voice, blinking hard as her face appeared next to his in his swimming vision.

“… only way I… hate to take advantage of… so sorry, Gray…”

He felt himself being sat down, her hand guiding his head as his calves touched something warm. The weight that seemed to be pressing on his entire body created a need in him to lie back, his head landing on a soft, firm surface. His feet came with him; he couldn't tell if he'd moved them on his own or not. One last sound met his ears, a bit clearer now and coming from right behind his head.

“It’ll be okay, Grayson. I promise.”

And then it was like night, quiet and still.  
  


* * *

  
Ethan started awake, sitting up with urgency. His heart was racing, skin covered in a sheen of sweat. He paused, listening for a noise that might have woken him up in such a panic but greeted only with silence.

He didn’t lie back down. There was no immediate threat, no person or thing nearby for him to fear.

But the dread that had settled in to his stomach didn't go away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so grateful for the lovely comments people left on the first chapter; they meant a lot to me so thank you for leaving them. ♥ I'm really inspired to keep writing for you and I hope you like how things are unfolding!


	3. Who Do You Connect With

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was inspired heavily by "Yes I'm Changing" by Tame Impala.

_Who's been stuck in your head?_

* * *

_  
I'm a fucking milk carton._

If someone had asked Ethan a month ago whether losing his brother was the worst thing that could ever happen to him, the answer would have been instantaneous. He would have said yes; he would have been unable to comprehend anything more impossible to bear. He would have struggled to see himself in the place that kind of loss would inevitably put him because he wouldn't be able to imagine himself surviving it.

Now, however, Ethan knew there were layers to the nightmare that was losing his twin. As expected, it was devastating in its own right, but how the gut-punch of grief would keep being delivered in new and horrible ways was an unwelcome surprise.

The worst one so far was what made that thought pop into his head: when someone is missing and you share a face with them, you become a walking milk carton, reminding everyone around you of their absence by virtue of existing with their features. You even become that to yourself. As the twins had grown up, Ethan had increasingly failed to see the similarities in their appearance, save for the occasional photo like the one that made his mom accidentally call Grayson "raisin" over text in the middle of the night. Since Gray disappeared, though, Ethan had caught himself staring at his own reflection almost wistfully, wishing he could reach through the mirror and pull out his brother somehow. He had almost considered covering the mirrors in their house, but he was pretty sure that was a death ritual of some kind and Ethan didn't feel comfortable with that.

Because he knew his brother was alive. He knew it and he asserted it over and over, even when those around him stopped humouring him because they deemed it more harmful than helpful. They played along at first, and then he started to notice the awkward tension that settled over everyone whenever he started sentences with, "_When_ Gray comes home," or when he firmly corrected someone who referred to Grayson in the past tense.

It was the worst with his mom, and he cringed whenever he remembered her brief visit to L.A. earlier that week. She flew in the same day he disappeared, and she began to cry the moment she saw Ethan's face at the airport (again, like a fucking milk carton). It only intensified when they got back to his house. He couldn't help but feel a swell of anger rise up in him when he would come across her holding something of Gray's, weeping as if he was gone forever and that stupid item was all that remained. He snapped on the second day, shouting at her that his home wasn't a funeral parlour and she should just go back to New Jersey if she was going to carry on like that. She did, heading home the next day, the visit too stressful and ill-timed for her as well. She didn't resent her son for his outburst, but even her understanding was underlined with a pitying tone that Ethan couldn't stand. He overheard her speaking with Cameron before she left, asking her to please get through to him as gently as she could so he could begin to properly mourn his twin's death.

Cam was Ethan's saving grace in all of this. She was the only one who didn't tiptoe around him or treat him like he was one mention of Grayson away from falling apart. She carried on being his annoying older sister and it was the only thing that made him feel normal, the only thing tethering him to his regular life. When he asked her to stay with him, she accepted immediately, knowing that he needed her far more than their mom did, knowing that Lisa had a support network in New Jersey. Ethan, on the other hand, was now alone in navigating the sad looks and hushed conversations that sprang up around him.

Mom had suggested that Ethan and Cameron come stay with her in New Jersey, but Ethan's rejection of this idea was swift and while there were multiple reasons for it, he only emphasized one: if Grayson found his way home somehow, Ethan needed to be there. Cameron had subtly reached out and touched her mother's knee when she saw the woman tense and open her mouth, a protest ready to spring from her lips. She shook her head almost imperceptibly and Lisa gave up, hands clenched in her lap. Ethan was so sure of himself and while Cam knew that denial was one of the first stages of grief, this felt different. Lisa had been in denial at first, too, but it looked more like shock and an outright refusal to hear what was being shared. Cameron had grown up with her twin brothers and had always witnessed the impressive (and at times, creepy) psychic connection they shared. If Ethan was saying that Grayson wasn't dead, Cam was willing to believe him.

Ethan sat in the passenger seat of his Jeep, staring out the window and turning the situation over and over in his brain the way he'd found himself doing countless times a day for the past week. His milk carton thought had just interrupted, his own translucent reflection in the window lending to the metaphor that had been on the tip of his mind for days. He almost cracked a smile as he thought about being dairy-free and whether missing person notices could be on almond milk cartons, too, imagining the Tweets he would get from fans if they knew that even Gray's disappearance couldn't distract him from dairy jokes. It was _almost_ funny. Almost.

The sun reflecting off the distant ocean water pulled him back to his previous thoughts, remembering the police turning up at his doorstep the day Grayson went missing. He remembered sitting in his living room, eyes fixated on a spot on the floor as he numbly took everything in. They had found Ethan's Jeep down at the beach; they had received an anonymous call claiming to have seen someone struggling out in the water; they had found Grayson's surfboard washed up along the shore. Ethan was barely paying attention as the police explained, ignoring their attempt to convey hope about the search while cautioning him that if Grayson got injured or exhausted out in the water he may not have survived. He had caught on to the implication of Gray's death early in the conversation and he immediately knew it wasn't right. How do you explain to the cops that you had woken up with a funny feeling that morning, that you knew somehow that your twin might be in danger but you still sensed he was alive? He knew they would be wasted words.

Ethan glanced over at his sister as she drove, remembering their conversation when she arrived in L.A. _"Grayson went surfing almost every morning,"_ Ethan had explained to her. "_He knew what he was doing out there, and unless something unexpected happened there's no way he would have been struggling in the water. Something's off."_

_Cameron hesitated a little, not wanting to lean into hope too quickly. "Are you sure? I mean, accidents happen, E. Even to athletic dudes like Gray." But Ethan shook his head emphatically._

_"Cam, I can't explain it and I know that makes it sound unbelievable. I just know that if he was dead, I would feel it. Yeah, maybe he did get in an accident out there, but if he's still alive I feel like they would have found him in the search. I don't think him being gone has anything to do with the water."_

_His sister nodded and he could tell that she believed him. "So what do you think happened, then? Where could he be?"_

_Ethan sighed and his eyebrows nearly touched as he furrowed his brow hard. "That's the problem. I have no fucking clue." He met Cameron's eyes and even though she couldn't read his mind quite like Gray could, she understood the meaning conveyed in her sibling's stare._

_He didn't know what happened to Grayson, but he was damn well going to find out.  
  
_

* * *

  
Ethan waited for his sister in the car while she ran into the store to get some groceries for them. He had stopped going out in public when an alleged friend leaked news of Grayson's disappearance, meaning that Ethan was constantly inundated with either paparazzi looking for a sound byte to capitalize off his tragedy or weepy fans who meant well but whose sadness was more irksome than endearing. He usually didn't even risk riding along with Cam, but he was starting to feel a bit stir crazy.

His customized Jeep stuck out like a sore thumb and he knew it was probably stupid to insist upon taking it today instead of Cam's rental, but since this was the last vehicle Gray had been in it made him feel connected to him. He idly wondered if being in it could enhance his twin superpower; maybe he would have some _That's So Raven_ moment and see a vision that would reveal his brother's whereabouts.

Ethan daydreamed, forehead pressed against his window. In his side mirror, he noticed a girl a few feet away taking a video of his car but barely reacted to it. Suddenly, she dropped her arm and turned on her heel, disappearing from view as a loud, "Yeah, that's right, _run away!"_ came from beside him and pulled him fully out of his reverie. He followed the familiar voice to its source and saw a perturbed Cameron glaring in the girl's direction, paper grocery bags in hand.

"Damn, you're getting so scary they peace out when they _see_ you now," Ethan gibed as Cam set the bags in the back seat. She gave him a withering look and he laughed as she disappeared from the back and emerged on the driver's side, pulling herself up into the seat.

"Good," she said firmly. "I'm glad my presence is terrifying. These people need to leave you alone! You're not a fucking zoo animal, dude." Ethan smiled at his sister's protectiveness, putting an appreciative hand on her forearm and letting go when she gave it an uncomfortable glance. He was grateful that she wasn't any less allergic to affection just because of the shit that was going on.

They chatted as she drove them home, Ethan enjoying the sunny day and cracking his window to let the brisk fall air flow in and rustle his unkempt hair. His music played quietly in the background just as it always did, shuffling through his library at random. One song ended as Cameron began a story about her friends in Georgia, and Ethan's stomach dropped suddenly as a familiar intro followed the brief musical silence.

A memory rolled in like a fog then, clouding his brain and muffling Cam's voice so he could go where the memory wanted to lead him. It wasn't difficult to follow; he had been sitting in this very seat -- 

_\-- Grayson at the wheel as they made their way to the beach, the early morning sun casting everything in gold as it just barely cleared the horizon. Yesterday they had met with Shane to film for their final weekly video and there was still a lot to be done, so their daily ritual of an early morning beach visit was greatly needed._

_The twins sat in silence, though it wasn't the silence that accompanies deep thought. They hadn't spoken to each other all morning, preparing for the day ahead in tandem, their actions flowing together seamlessly as they found themselves in a space that would only be complicated by words. That fact was implicitly understood by both of them, and the gravity of it and of their impending life change had created an indescribable feeling they had only experienced a handful of times in their life together._

_Grayson's music filled the silent space between them, neither of them paying attention to it until this song came on and Ethan felt an inexplicable shift in the air._

_He had heard this song a thousand times. _They _had heard this song a thousand times. Suddenly, though, it felt like it was being written right as it came out of the speakers of the car, written to give words to their thoughts. _I was raging, it was late, in the world my demons cultivate. I felt the strangest emotion but it wasn't hate, for once.

_Ethan's hand went to the back of his neck as if to smooth away the electricity he suddenly felt there --_

"Hello? Earth to butthead? I know you're not paying attention because I just said something your smart ass would've commented on _for_ sure," Cameron said, eyes looking ahead as she reached out a hand to wave in front of Ethan's face. He started, apologizing distractedly.

"When did you zone out on me? If I have to repeat my whole story I swear to god..."

"Hm? Oh, uh, I don't know. Sorry, Cam. Just had a thought."

"Wait, what? You did!? Well, shit, that's groundbreaking, no wonder you stopped paying attention," she said in mock wonder, waiting for her brother's groan or a punch to the arm. When those never came, she knew something was up. "E?"

"Do you ever hear a song and it just, like..." Ethan began. His voice trailed off and he stared at a spot on the dashboard, the gaze under his furrowed brow a searching one.

Cameron glanced away from the road to look at her brother, about to make a joke about him buffering until she caught the intensity of his expression; he had clearly gone somewhere very far away from her. She chewed her lip, debating whether he needed to be brought back or if he needed this moment to process in that distant corner of his mind.

Ethan's pause had come as he struggled to find the right words to relay the transportive power of music, abandoning his question altogether when he couldn't find them and the memory invited him to return to it instead.

_Grayson wordlessly turned up the volume and Ethan was certain his twin was feeling the exact same thing he was right now. _Yes, I'm changing. Yes, I'm gone. Yes, I'm older; yes, I'm moving on. And if you don't think it's a crime you can come along with me.

_"Fuck." Ethan heard the broken word coming out of him before he could comprehend that he had said it aloud, surprised to hear his own voice. He heard the same tremor of emotion flowing beneath his words, the same quality his voice took on while they talked to Shane and Ethan tried exceedingly hard to keep his tears in check._

_"I know," came his brother's soft reply, and Ethan glanced over tenuously. He was surprised to meet Grayson's eyes immediately, anticipating that he would be focused on the road so as not to acknowledge that the control was steadily slipping away from them. His eyes were brimmed just like Ethan's, holding on to the borderline between suppressing and letting go. It was a line they had both straddled multiple times, more often managing to stay on the suppressing side of things._

_But when they admitted to Shane aloud that they didn't cry in front of each other, his reaction made the weight of that reality feel heavier than before. They had truly convinced themselves that it was normal, and Shane's response didn't stop at making them feel like it was the strangest thing. It went far beyond that, hitting them hard and forcing the truth to sink in: that it was so incredibly _sad._ They were each other's best friends and confidants and they couldn't even share their pain with one another._

Ethan felt Cameron's hand on his knee and in that moment he became aware that his leg was bouncing aggressively, an unconscious response to the emotions threatening to win out over his attempted control. He didn't look up at her as he focused his energy on keeping everything in, feeling unable to explain what was going on in his head right now.

_"I think you'd be, like, surprised at how good it might feel to let go in front of each other, you know?" Shane had told the twins after taking them aside when the cameras stopped rolling. Ethan turned away from Grayson again, worried that the look on his face would break him down and feeling the knee-jerk response of discomfort at the idea. He was turning Shane's words over in his mind and didn't even notice that the car had slowed to a stop. _I saw it different, I must admit. I caught a glimpse, I'm going after it. They say people never change but that's bullshit, they do.

_Gray touched his brother's shoulder tentatively; Ethan felt the slight tremor in his twin's fingers as he seemed to contemplate his decision, then felt them relax as Grayson left his hand there decidedly._

_"Ethan."_

_He knew that it was equal parts command and entreaty, Grayson's voice landing between gentle and dominant in a way that Ethan was used to and had never been able to replicate. He turned his gaze toward his brother, finding Grayson turned in his seat to completely face Ethan, a look in his eyes that Ethan had never seen before and couldn't place. _Yes I'm changing, can't stop it now, and even if I wanted I wouldn't know how. Another version of myself I think I found, at last.

_Ethan slowly reached his own hand up to cover his brother's and the touch made something akin to fear flash across both of their faces. The vulnerability was terrifying and inevitable, and as quickly as the terror gripped them it had let them go and Ethan felt his face become wet at the same moment he watched Grayson's tears finally fall, his twin becoming his mirror._

_And then it overtook them, the control spinning away from them so quickly Ethan wondered how they'd held on to it for so long. A whine escaped his brother's lips as his face contorted in grief and Ethan became vaguely aware of the wail arising in his own throat as he reached forward with his other hand, grasping desperately at the back of his brother's neck, their foreheads meeting as they dissolved. They sobbed together, bodies shaking from the force as they clamored for more contact until they were in as tight an embrace as they could manage._

_In that moment, in Gray's arms, Ethan felt whole. It was as if he had always been clumsily fumbling around in his hurt and for the first time felt what it was like to find steady footing and lean into it. Everything felt like it was changing but for the better, for once. They were free._

Cameron's arm around his neck brought Ethan back suddenly, surprised at the loving touch for a split second before he realized he was shaking with silent tears. She had pulled over the same way Grayson had, unable to ignore her baby brother's rare display of grief and pain. She rubbed his shoulders and said with quiet determination, "We'll bring him home, E. Wherever he is, we'll find him."

He nodded and swallowed his sobs, taking a gasping breath as he attempted to regain composure. He looked up at her and he felt like a little boy again, like he had just skinned his knee and the only thing that would soothe the pain was his big sister Cam. His voice broke and a fresh wave of tears came as he choked out, "I'm so scared, Cameron."

As the song came to an end, Cameron cradled Ethan in her arms, kissing the top of his head as his huge frame shook. Her lip quivered as she held her brother close, staring out at the sky as she tried to remain strong for him.

"Where the hell are you, Grayson?" she whispered.  
  


* * *

_  
It's calling out for you. Arise and walk, come through. Someone beyond that door is calling out for you..._

The song echoed around his brain, trailing off as if it was playing from a slowly passing vehicle. Colours swirled behind his closed eyes, shades of a perfect California day that turned into the outline of his brother. Just before he fully came to, he thought he heard a soft, unfamiliar voice saying something... a promise, a vow that something would be alright.

The moment he awoke completely, the voice and any memory of it was gone. It must have been a dream, the kind that slips through your mind like sand through an hourglass as soon as you leave it. He went to reach for his phone, not wanting to open his eyes yet; his head was pounding and he assumed it was the middle of the night but wanted to be sure before committing to more sleep. He chided himself for not taking his watch off before he went to bed and was confused as to why it felt so tight on him.

When he felt resistance on his wrist before he could reach his nightstand, Grayson's eyes snapped open. Something was wrong. It was dark, but it didn't feel like his room, didn't feel like he was facing the right direction in his bed. He tried once more to reach out and felt the resistance again, and when he tried to lift his other outstretched arm to investigate he realized there was something on that wrist, too. He tried to pull both wrists away and toward himself, but they resisted in that direction as well.

His heart rate increased as an uncomfortable feeling washed over him and turned his body cold. This wasn't his room. Why wasn't he in his room? What was attached to his arms? And _why_ couldn't he remember going to sleep last night? His eyes darted around, breathing coming to him in short gasps as panic set in. Everything was so hazy in his mind that he didn't even understand the fear he was feeling.

As he kept glancing around, hoping that his eyes would adjust soon, he began to remember. He had gone somewhere that morning... to get breakfast? No, he made that at home. He only made it for himself because Ethan... Ethan was asleep. Ethan wouldn't get his lazy ass out of bed to go...

"Surfing," Grayson muttered hoarsely to himself, only noticing how dry his throat was when the word felt like needles behind his tongue. He coughed as he tried to remember what happened after surfing, but he was drawing a blank. He'd been alone, hadn't he? He must have been if Ethan wouldn't go with him. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had spoken to someone, though.

As the darkness took on a lighter hue, Grayson could faintly make out a door and a window with the blinds drawn shut. There was some sort of table or dresser across from him. As he squinted into the dark and tried hard to remember more, he heard a soft groan come from the other corner of the room and his heart began to beat wildly again.

"Who the fuck is there!?" Grayson said, trying to sound threatening but his words ended up dulled by the pain still rattling through his skull. He heard the groan again and realized that the person sounded just as groggy as he was. "Hello?" he tried, and was met with a soft, "Mmh..." that only told him the voice probably belonged to a woman.

It clicked suddenly. He had been talking to a fan and something happened. The last memory he had was of something hurting him, a sting to his neck followed by darkness... he remembered a fuzzy thought about warning the fan but he assumed he never got that far. As he tried to piece everything together into something coherent, he heard a sudden gasp as the woman woke up, and then a low whine that built into a panicked yell.

"Wh-where am I? What the fuck is happening!?" she called out in terror, beginning to hyperventilate. He heard a rattling noise and assumed she was restrained somehow, too.

"Hey, hey, it's okay, I'm here too," Grayson answered, trying his best to soothe her even though the panic still gripped him like an icy hand.

"Who are you? I don't know you! Oh my god, what the fuck!" she whined, voice breaking as she began to cry.

"I can't remember what happened very well, but I think I was attacked by someone. I'm Grayson," he said, talking loudly over her terrified sobs. She stopped and he heard sniffling, so he continued, feeling like his voice was giving her something to focus on. "I was talking to a fan and I thought something stung me but... I think it must have been something else. I don't know, I'm _really _fucking confused. I don't even know if she's okay, but I hope so." He paused, then asked, "Do you remember what you were doing before you ended up here?"

"Yeah, I do," she said quietly. "I was talking to you."

Oh, fuck, this was her? Grayson groaned. "Fuck, I'm so sorry. I feel like whoever this was probably meant to get me and you just got pulled into it. _Fuck_, I'm sorry... uh... shit, sorry, what's your name?"

"That's okay," she said, the fear slowly leaving her voice but an undercurrent of distress remaining.

"My name is Lydia."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that it took me so long to get chapter 3 posted! Life got in the way, as it tends to do. I promise the next chapter will come much sooner. Thank you, as always, for reading and for your kind words ♥


	4. Would You Lay In My Bed

_Praying let me hold you tight 'til your face turns blue._

* * *

Now came the long game.

The drive to the farmhouse was torturous and if it weren't for her level of self-control, she would have swerved right off the road from staring in the rear-view mirror at Grayson's unconscious form. She limited herself to the occasional glance at a red light, wishing she could see his perfect face but knowing how risky it would be to drive around with him uncovered in the backseat. Even seeing the vague outline of him under the blankets was enough for her. Her heart danced wildly in her chest, the sole betrayer of her calm, focused demeanor.

After a long drive that seemed to stretch before her like an eternity, she was met with the task of getting him inside. She scanned her surroundings for anything out of the ordinary, met only with the familiar rows of fields and the trees that encircled the house; she knew that it was unlikely for anyone to be nearby but she hadn't come as far as she did by dropping her guard.

During the entire arduous process, she was attuned to every sound she heard and every perceived movement she saw out of the corner of her eye. But she got him inside and onto the bed without incident, pulling a t-shirt on above his swim shorts. She'd left his regular clothes in the Jeep to push the narrative of his accidental death in the water, knowing it would be suspicious if they were missing. She paused once she settled him back onto the bed, panting and taking a moment to brace herself against the mattress. The back of her hand slid across her brow as she wiped away the sweat, one hand supported by her hip as she caught her breath.

Grayson would be out for at least another hour, affording her the time to fine tune everything. As she secured his wrists to the bed frame, she glanced at the cushion in the corner of the room, grimacing at the thought of how uncomfortable it would be. _No pain, no gain,_ she reminded herself as her gaze fell over his face.

She couldn't help herself, reaching out to trace the features she had memorized in countless photographs, that had captivated her in videos for years. She leaned over him and breathed him in, stopping herself from doing what she wanted to do more than anything. She wanted him to _want_ to kiss her. She didn't want to force that moment to happen, not like this.

Lydia compelled herself to pull away from Grayson, leaving the room and securing the locks on the heavy door behind her.  
  


* * *

  
The sun had just gone down when she returned to the room. She was proud of the work she had done and although she wanted to sink in to her faint sense of relief and accomplishment, she ignored it. There was still more work ahead of her and it became increasingly reliant on her execution, which meant she had to remain as diligent and sharp as she had been from the beginning. She flicked off the light and carefully made her way to her temporary home on the ground.

He was here, right in the same room, sharing the same air she breathed. She could be in front of him in a matter of seconds and touching his skin again in no time after that. Her fingertips practically ached at the thought. She brought them to her face, recalling the trail they had taken down his and mimicking it, eyes fluttering shut.

Lydia had been practicing her emotional control in anticipation of this for so long, and the fact that one slip-up would send her years of preparation tumbling down in a fraction of the time it took to build everything up kept her very much in line. She knew that sticking to the plan would culminate in what she had fantasized about since the day in 2016 that her life really began. She started imagining how their first conversation would go when he woke up, brimming with anticipation until she thought about the way he'd feel from the sedative. 

She worried her lip between her teeth, fretting for a moment until she swiftly shut the thought down._ Deal with it, Lydia. You can't get soft about that kind of thing now. You did what you had to do._ She sighed, dropping her face into her hands as she reprimanded herself. She had to suck it up and get through this part.

She breathed deeply and straightened up, her body already beginning to feel stiff and uncomfortable on her makeshift bed. Like everything else, this stage of things would pay off and be well worth the discomfort. She adjusted herself as best she could and supported her back against the wall before closing her eyes and intentionally matching the pace of her breathing to Grayson's until she let sleep take her.

When she awoke to his panic in the night, the adrenaline of remembering where she was and the exhilaration of hearing his voice served her well. She channeled those feelings into terror to put on a convincing enough display that Grayson wouldn't suspect her hand in their captivity. She feigned ignorance, aligning herself with him as a victim. It was perfect. It was easy. She almost felt bad for playing off his unassuming nature and willingness to trust her. Almost. 

_I deserve a fucking Oscar,_ she thought to herself after the small talk had dwindled and Gray's breathing deepened and gave way to soft snoring. This time, she allowed herself to lean into the thrill of her success.

She fell asleep with an irrepressible smile on her face.  
  


* * *

  
For a brief moment when he woke up, Grayson forgot.

He wished he could hold onto that moment as he felt it leave him so quickly, his heart sinking as the counterweight of his reality rose to the surface. He sighed, blinking awake in the darkness of the room. He could tell it was daytime, a faint glow of light peeking through the edges of the window and allowing the dimness to take on a different quality.

He listened for the soft breathing of his roommate, playing back last night's conversation in his head. This was already a nightmare in and of itself, but the fact that he got some poor, innocent girl captured too made him feel even worse about it. The guilt swelled in his chest as he remembered that it was his desire to get her out of his hair that probably helped their kidnapper; if he hadn't suggested a picture so she'd leave, maybe they would've noticed the sick fuck before he could drug them. Hell, maybe he would've just given up and left them both alone.

He sighed in frustration, wishing he could shut off his thoughts. It was a fruitless exercise, daydreaming about what could have been different. He was here and so was Lydia, end of story. He tried to shift his focus to something else but it was hard to do in a room full of nothing that he couldn't even look at properly. As he cycled through ideas of how to distract himself, Ethan's face came to the forefront of his mind and the bottom dropped out of his stomach.

Grayson had spent nearly 20 years with a constant companion. He had lived with Ethan his entire life and hadn't gone more than a week without him, and even then he was still not alone. At his lowest point when their dad was dying, Grayson had developed a sudden need for space and became far more prickly around Ethan than he ever had been. Their conversations at home would swiftly become arguments when he met Ethan's regular chatter with irritation or indifference or both. There were many slammed doors or tense silences during that time. He even made more than one point in their lie detector video about leaving Ethan or faring just fine on his own, giving their fans an inkling that something was amiss.

He understood now what he didn't back then: he and Ethan weren't processing their hurt in the way that they should, putting up walls instead of inviting one another in. He hated thinking about that time and the show he made of being independent and not needing his brother. It was the furthest thing from the truth, proven wrong by 20 years of anecdotal evidence: every morning wake-up because he missed him, every fumbled word in the videos he tried to film alone, every plea for a hug or affection, every picture of them cuddling as they slept, every arm Ethan would groan and forcefully remove from his shoulder. Ethan always pretended to dislike Grayson's clinginess and rebuffed it publicly, but he knew that their closeness sustained Ethan, too. Especially since they lost Dad.

His twin's absence was profoundly felt right now, the thought that cratered his insides coming from the realization that Ethan was Grayson's preventative measure for overthinking. Whenever he found himself spiraling or mulling the same thought over uselessly in his brain, he would talk to Ethan. Having a twin as a best friend meant having a sounding board for every notion that ever crossed his mind. He felt like he was losing it right now, dread settling in and making his blood run cold. He did have one option and even though it wasn't Ethan, it was better than nothing.

"Hey, you awake?" he asked quietly. He didn't want to make Lydia come back to this reality any faster than she needed to, waking to that same sinking feeling as comprehension dawned on her. Selfishly, though, he absolutely wanted her to wake up and pull him out of his discomfort.

When she didn't answer, he decided to let her sleep and settled in to the silence of the room. He strained to hear signs of life outside of it and in doing so he noticed just how quiet everything was.

He tried to listen for Lydia's breathing again as he'd done earlier. He'd be able to hear it, wouldn't he? He started to second-guess himself and knew there was only one way to be certain.

"Hey, you good?" he asked, louder this time. No response. No sound.

"Hello?" he tried, this time raising his voice to a low yell. Fear began to seize him again as he was met with stillness, worst-case scenarios toppling into his brain one over the other. What if she was hurt? What if she was worse off than that? What if she was never there and he was truly fucking losing it?

Desperation taking the place of unease, he struggled against his restraints, trying his hardest to see past the edge of the bed. After some frustrated attempts, he managed to manoeuvre his wrists in such a way that the restraints slid up the frame behind him. His legs were free and he used them to push himself up toward the back of the bed, bending his arms uncomfortably behind him to grab the frame for leverage as he craned his neck upward.

He couldn't see the floor, but he saw enough to discern that Lydia was not there. _Maybe she was allowed to leave? _The thought had barely finished forming before he stopped believing it. She wouldn't have been brought here in the first place if she was just going to be released, and at this point it would probably be too risky for the son of a bitch behind this to just let her go.

He tried to stop himself from thinking of what could be happening to her as he broke into a cold sweat, and in an instant he found his voice again in the form of panicked yelps that drowned out the noise in his skull. Wanting to give them a second purpose, he turned them into words. Desperation became distress.

"What the fuck are you playing at? Where is she!? Let me out of here!"

Distress boiled over into rage.

"Hey! HEY! COME ON, YOU FUCKING COWARD! LET'S FUCKING GO!"

His restraints rattled against the metal bed frame as he thrashed about on the bed, a furious attempt at either breaking free or annoying his captor into showing himself, whichever came first.

And then it shifted again, rage giving way to something else, a frustration combined with a sorrow that only made itself known in the hot tears that rolled down his face and curved along his jaw.

"Come on, you piece of shit! I'm the one you want. Whatever you want with me just... just do it and leave her out of it!"

But he knew his cries were falling on deaf ears. He could see his helplessness even amidst all his efforts to change it. No matter what was happening on the other side of that door, he couldn't stop it. Whatever was in store for him, he couldn't divert it. Without knowing who or what he was facing, Grayson couldn't prepare for what might happen to him. For the first time since he got here, he entertained the concept that he might never see his twin brother's face again.

The frustration fell away and his tears came steadily now, devastation sweeping in and wracking his body with sobs.  
  


* * *

  
"Grayson?"

He felt as if he was hearing through mud, the sound taking on a distant and muffled quality like he was still half asleep even though he felt very much awake. His eyes remained closed even though he willed them to open.

"Gray? You here?"

It felt like his nerve endings were aflame and every instinct screamed at him to answer, to move, to do something other than lie there unresponsive. When he finally did open his eyes, a strange light was filtering into the room from the unfettered window. The sickly, greenish tint was diffused by a haze that he hadn't noticed before.

The voice rang out again, this time sounding closer but still dampened.

"Grayson!"

His own voice felt inaccessible to him and he wasn't as panicked about that fact as he wanted to be. Every process in his body and mind was lagging and muted even though he felt so acutely aware of them. He began to wonder if the haze was to blame for this when the door to the room was opened and a familiar figure moved through the frame.

"Bro?" Ethan called, sounding increasingly uncertain with every word he spoke. "Where are you?"

Grayson felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up as several emotions flitted through him all at once. His eyes widened and he opened his mouth to answer but nothing came out. His heart pounded and his breathing quickened as he stared at his brother who was now standing next to the bed, rooted in one place as he turned his head to slowly survey the room.

"Come on, Gray," Ethan said pleadingly, this time to himself. Grayson strained to see him as the fog intensified, trying and failing to call out, bewildered that Ethan couldn't see him lying there right in front of him.

He watched in terror as Ethan sighed in resignation, shoulders slumping in defeat as he turned to leave the room. A scream rose up in Grayson's chest, unable to break through, as the door latched shut again and the fog began to block out the light and descend the room back into darkness. The ringing in his ears worsened rapidly until it ceased all at once and he was plunged into complete silence.

When he woke up, Grayson heard the tail end of his own cries cut short by his sudden return to reality. His eyes darted around the room, trying to ground himself by absorbing every detail that contrasted the nightmare: no fog, no weird light, no paralysis.

No Ethan.

As his breathing slowed, disappointment flooded him. He just barely noticed that the blinds had been pulled up and natural light was streaming in for the first time, something he might have celebrated if he wasn't trying to shake off the torturous image of Ethan that his mind had created.

Being in a dark room by himself had messed with his sense of time in ways he'd never experienced before. He was sure Lydia couldn't have been gone for more than two days, but it could have just as easily been four hours and he would be none the wiser. He was running out of ways to distract himself: sometimes he replayed his favourite memories in his head, sometimes he sang songs to himself, sometimes he just stared at the ceiling praying for rescue and trying to stave off his ever-advancing hopelessness.

Sleep was a great strategy and he'd managed to use it at least four times now. Most of the time they were dreamless sleeps, something he felt grateful for in light of the nightmare he'd just endured. At some point in the endless stretch of time since Lydia had disappeared, he'd woken up and noticed an empty glass on the table across from his bed, clear droplets inside telling him it likely contained water and a lack of dryness in his throat telling him he likely drank it. He'd had a hard time sleeping for a long while after that, terrified that someone had been in here with him despite his total inability to remember it. He hadn't wanted to acknowledge what that meant, how being dosed was a regular part of this and not just a means of being captured.

A noise startled him out of his daydream, a shuffling sound in the corner of the room. His anxiety spiked again as he tensed up and prepared himself for the worst until he heard Lydia's groggy voice carrying his name.

"Mmh... Grayson...?"

Relief hit like a tidal wave, eliciting a small "hah!_"_from him. He let his head fall back against his pillow, body releasing all of its tension, as his chest swelled with emotion. It was probably a combination of his nightmare and the mental anguish that being alone had wrought, but for only the second or third time in his life Grayson found himself on the verge of happy tears.

"Lydia! Oh my-- what-- how are you? Are you okay?" Grayson asked, tripping over his words as he tried to settle on what to ask someone he thought he'd never speak to again.

He heard Lydia chuckle weakly. "I'm... I'm here," was all she answered, and his stomach flipped as he heard the weight in her voice. She was most certainly not okay.

Grayson was quiet for a moment as he contemplated what to say. He wanted to find out more but didn't want to push her too much. He also wasn't sure he actually _did_ want to hear what happened, his guilt still gnawing at him.

"Don't stress, Grayson," she said into the silence. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips; he found solace in someone being there to externalize his inner thoughts again.

"Sorry. I just..." he paused, carefully weighing his words. "I feel so fucked since none of this shit was supposed to happen to you and it is. Because of _me_. I can't stand that he won't just leave you out of it."

He heard Lydia sigh. "Gray, I--" she started, but he cut her off as he felt the words come spilling out of him, a heaviness he needed to release by acknowledging it out loud.

"It was awful in here without you. It really was."

She was silent for a few moments and when she spoke again, Grayson could hear emotion in her voice, the unmistakable thickness that comes with tears. He knew she must be reliving whatever she had just been through. He felt like a dumbbell had been placed on his chest.

"It was pretty awful out there without you, too." She sniffled and cleared her throat, adding, "Before you ask, I never got to see the bastard. He was wearing a mask. And like, gloves and stuff."

As she described what little she had to go on, a cloudy memory surfaced from a far corner of Grayson's mind. A gloved hand raising a glass to his lips. A figure dressed entirely in black, baggy clothes obscuring the form beneath. A black mask looming from under a hood.

"He was here," Grayson said before he could stop himself, not sure if he was ready to make that memory real by sharing it.

"What? When? What did he do?"

He sighed, knowing it wasn't fair to withhold anything. She arguably had the worst experience of the two of them; she deserved to know what was going on while she was away.

"I think he drugged me again," he said slowly. He heard Lydia gasp and felt his shame lifting away, recognizing that they were in this together and that there was no expectation for him to be tough in the face of this horror. He continued, voice steady and sure now.

"Actually, I know he did. He gave me water. There's no way I'd only half remember that if I didn't have something else in my system."

"I just got chills. That's fucking scary," Lydia shuddered.

"Yeah," Grayson answered carefully, "that's how I feel about what happened to you. And I don't even know what actually _happened. _Not that you need to tell me," he added quickly. "I mean, not if you don't want to."

"I do. Not all of it; it's still kind of shitty to think about. I can tell you that he didn't talk to me out loud, but he still made it pretty clear that he wanted to know who I was. Like, in relation to you. I think he wanted to figure out..."

Grayson waited with baited breath as she hesitated, as afraid as he was curious to hear what she struggled to relay.

"I think he wanted to figure out how expendable I am."

Her words punched him right in the gut, nausea churning his stomach and causing him to swallow back the feeling as it rose in his throat. He muttered a barely audible, "Fuck..."

The force of Lydia's words launched them both into deep thought which was broken after a considerable spell of time by Lydia, whose tone had shifted to one that was intentionally upbeat. Grayson appreciated it.

"It wasn't all bad, though," she said, piquing his curiosity.

"How so?" he asked skeptically.

"Well, I _did_ manage to poke some holes in his plan. I brought up that if he wanted you to stay alive you'd have to eat, but that you probably wouldn't accept him feeding you anything without biting his fingers off."

Grayson snorted. "True. If I'd been awake when he was in here with me, I would've found a way to hurt him." His mouth twisted to one side in contemplation before he added, "But _is_ that a bad thing? Shouldn't we want him to get in the room with me so I can, like, attack him or something?"

"No. That is _exactly _why I brought up the food thing. Grayson, you and I are alive right now, but do you really think someone unhinged enough to tie two people up and lock them in a room isn't capable of worse if he's pushed too far? I seriously doubt he would ever let you get the upper hand, and I don't know that you could actually _get_ the upper hand when you're literally tied to a bed."

Grayson winced, uncomfortable with having his vulnerable state pointed out like that yet unable to deny the truth in what she said.

He heard rustling from her corner of the room followed by a soft pattering, and then Lydia was somehow in his line of sight. The shock of being able to see her was so all-encompassing that it didn't dawn on him that she was no longer restrained until she was already at his bedside, perching on the mattress next to his legs.

She beamed at him, placing a finger to her lips and continuing in a hushed tone. "The best thing to do right now is make this shithead _think_ he has the upper hand."

"What? How--?" Gray stammered, mouth agape as he processed this unexpected turn of events.

"This was the easy part. I don't think he sees me as a threat -- at least, not physically -- so it was an easy enough buy-in, keeping me untied so I can help you eat."

As she spoke, she got up to move to the nearby table and returned with a sandwich, setting the plate down next to her. Grayson's hunger had been long forgotten; he'd been so preoccupied with the more pressing matters regarding his captivity that his physical needs had been easy to dismiss. When he saw the measly sandwich, though, he regained a painful awareness of the empty cavern where his stomach once was.

"_This_ was the hard part," she grinned, procuring a set of two small keys and dangling them from her index finger. Grayson looked back and forth between the keys and Lydia's jubilant face as she got up, disappearing behind him and busying herself with his restraints. He heard two small c_licks_ and felt the tightness around his wrists dissipate.

He groaned as he released his arms downward, his muscles straining against the movement after being stuck in the same position for so long. He rolled his shoulders and slowly sat up, Lydia swiftly catching one of his arms when his lightheadedness made him sway. She kept her hands on his back and shoulder to support him as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and grounded his feet on the floor, sitting upright.

He ate the sandwich ravenously, barely even registering what was in it. When he was finished, he set the plate aside and turned to look at Lydia, unanswered questions at the forefront of his mind. He started to speak but stopped short when he noticed the bruises on her face, the cut on her lip, things he hadn't taken in while his mind was racing.

"Lydia..." he said softly, starting to reach out on instinct but stopping himself. She gave him a baffled look until she traced his gaze as he scrutinized her bruises, her hand covering the wound on her mouth self-consciously. Grayson frowned and moved her hand back out of the way, keeping his fingers clasped gently around her wrist as he spoke.

"That fucking asshole," he muttered. "Does it hurt?"

"Which part?" she said with a laugh. His face fell and she faltered, looking away from him. "Sorry. I've just been avoiding thinking about it. It still kinda does, yeah."

Grayson looked at her intently, letting go of her wrist and placing his hand over hers where she rested it on the bed. He looked down at his lap in thought, Lydia sneaking a curious glance at his face in his periphery.

"Whatever you think we should do, I'm with you." He gave her a small, reassuring smile as their eyes met. He wasn't entirely sure if she knew what she was doing and he couldn't help but feel apprehensive.

He owed her, though. He couldn't imagine being in the position she was in and risking worse by bargaining with a kidnapper. Bargaining for _him._ Trying to make sure he was comfortable. Fucking stealing from a deranged man to help _him._

Hearing her out was the very least he could do.

"So, what do we do now?"  
  


* * *

  
No pain, no gain.

She repeated it over and over to herself as she aimed her fist at her face. She'd done this a few times over the past year, getting herself used to it so she would have the resolve to follow through when the time came. Still, stifling her brain's threat response was no small feat.

She grunted as her closed hand made contact with her face once, twice, a third time. She knew she had done enough when she saw the spots flaring up, angry and red, in the mirror before her. Maintaining eye contact with herself, she picked up the knife and pressed it against her lip, wincing but keeping her eyes open and focused. She felt the blood trickling in two directions, one into her mouth and the other down her chin, and the knife clattered into the sink while she used her tongue to stop the flow.

It was her first night outside of the room and it had been tough to wrench herself away from Gray. She'd disguised herself before drugging him again, wanting to give him water while he was still coherent enough to cooperate. She felt a combination of remorse and affection when his bleary eyes tried to focus on her, some of the water spilling down his chin. After he passed out, she'd allowed herself to linger at his bedside, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest.

She knew she had to make her time outside of the room believable and avoided the temptation of her makeshift bedroom upstairs. She hadn't bothered to adorn it with much, knowing she would be spending very little time there, bringing only her favourite watercolour of the two of them. It was a reminder to stay on track. He would see it someday, far enough down the road that she could pretend it was newly painted. Maybe it could be a gift to him.

Instead of visiting the room, she spent her first night planted in front of the monitor. Depriving herself of sleep would lend to her ruse of suffering and would hopefully allow her to get emotional more readily. The hidden cameras allowed her to keep an eye on Grayson's bed from two different angles and the hallway outside the room, just in case. Staving off rest was easy when she could remain transfixed on his sleeping form.

When exhaustion set in, she watched her favourite videos of the twins on her new phone. She was careful to avoid anything that would make her traceable, registering the phone under the name of the relative who'd once owned the farmhouse.

When she watched old videos of theirs from her teenage years, an indescribable feeling welled up inside her. She remembered lying in her bed doing this very thing, heart full and head swimming with possibilities long before her current plan was formed.

It was surreal, being in the place she had imagined for so long. Every careful detail she had mapped out, every lie she had crafted, every part of it was happening in real time. And it was _working_.

She had to remind herself not to get cocky, especially when she was back in the room with him. He had no idea that he was writing some of the story himself, filling in some of the blanks for her. He had no idea that the motivation for her tears wasn't stress or sadness or fear, but rather that she could summon them just by allowing herself to take it all in and reflect on her success so far.

The next few days were spent writing more of the story, using his questions as guidance. Were there cameras? No, she hadn't seen any monitors or anything, so Gray could feel comfortable being let out of his restraints. What if he walked in while Grayson was unbound? He wouldn't; Lydia had been able to observe patterns in his routine like how he only took her every other night, how he only went in the room during the day if she wasn't there.

Gray's comfort was important to her because she cared for him, but being untied and moving around the room freely also made him associate Lydia with something positive. Plus, she didn't like having conversations while he was tied down, ones where he couldn't quite look at her and where she couldn't easily see his dimples when he laughed or the beautiful hazel colour of his eyes as they focused on her.

Lydia found a less aggressive way to drug him by dosing his water on the nights she needed to leave. Sometimes the goal of leaving was to bring food back in again, sometimes it was to help her address the worries that she couldn't realistically ease for Grayson. She needed a plausible means of observing their captor and having answers backed by evidence, not just guesswork that Gray couldn't trust.

Lydia had also anticipated what being alone would do to Grayson. Actually, she had banked on it. Watching his initial panic attack had been so hard, tears flowing down her face that matched his as she watched him on the screen and heard his muffled cries through the walls. It had gotten easier for him in that he was no longer as panicked, but her heart always ached as she watched his discomfort mount.

It was always worth it, though, to see the look on his face when he woke up and found her there. His happiness in this place depended on her. He was visibly at ease when she was there. There was a clear shift in his demeanor when she was with him as Lydia and when she was with him disguised as the captor, which she had to be at times.

She couldn't fill a plot hole involving access to their en suite bathroom, for example. Using the bathroom when he wanted to and then refusing to let the kidnapper facilitate its use would look suspicious. So he used it during his unrestrained time and they agreed that whenever the kidnapper arrived at night to take him there, he would make the trip even if he didn't need to. Lydia made sure he'd stay in line when she was playing her secret role by switching his restraints out for handcuffs and escorting him there at gunpoint for added intimidation.

She hated the mixture of fear and vitriol on his face during her masked visits. It made her yearn all the more for the softness of his expression when she was herself.  
  


* * *

  
One night over a week into their time at the farmhouse, they sat laughing together on the bed. Grayson was propped up against the wall, Lydia cross-legged in front of him; they'd been quoting old Vines when Lydia referenced his and Ethan's "Same Love" Vine. Gray buried his face in his hands, blushing hard as Lydia doubled over in a fit of giggles.

"Ughhh, _why _did I have to document my teenage years online?" he groaned into his palms. He looked at her through his fingers in dismay as her laughter settled, adding, "And why did you _like_ it!?"

She was sent into another peal of laughter that made him start cracking up again, too. "Because I was _also_ a teenager. Well, that and because you and Ethan knew exactly what you were doing," she chuckled as she wiped her eyes. "The amount of times you were shirtless for no reason was clearly a calculated move. You said it yourself when you guys watched them back: there were definitely some 'fudgeboy' Vines."

Grayson felt a weird feeling come over him, vestiges of the feeling he got whenever the gap between how much his fans knew about him and how little he knew about them seemed particularly vast. The fact that he'd gotten to know Lydia but couldn't quote things she'd said in the past and didn't know anything beyond what she told him was strange in contrast to her knowledge of him.

He shook it off and kept himself in the moment, sighing as he tilted his head back, one hand still covering his burning face. "Thank you, I'm aware that we were a couple of cringey fuckboys."

"It's okay. The real ones never thought you were cringe." She paused before adding slyly, "And firstly, no one said _you_ were fuckboys. I said they were fuckboy _Vines_. Secondly, I never said they didn't work."

"Oh really?" Grayson teased with a smirk. "They did it for you, huh?"

Now it was Lydia's turn to hide her face, pink tinging her cheeks as she began to pull her legs out from under herself.

"A'ight, I'mma head out," she joked with a laugh as she hopped off the bed. "We should get some sleep, for real. Especially me, since I'm off the hook tonight." The clockwork schedule of her removal proved useful when she wanted him to stay relaxed and heartened by her presence.

"Wait," Grayson said after a moment of hesitation. Lydia paused, turning to look over her shoulder at him.

"Hmm?"

"You shouldn't have to be so uncomfortable every night," he said. "You don't have to sleep over here with me if that'd be weird for you, but at least let me switch with you tonight. Or something."

He injected as much apathy into his tone as he could, not wanting her to feel pressured or to get creepy vibes from him. The truth was that he just missed the comfort of someone else lying near him. He and Ethan slept separately most nights, but every few days Grayson would go to his bed.

Sometimes Ethan rejected the proposal and Grayson would wake up in the middle of the night, restless and lonely, and sneak into his brother's bed while he was sleeping. Sleepy E would be miffed in the morning but lacked the energy to pretend he was truly pissed. Other nights, Ethan would surprise Grayson by welcoming the offer in the most Ethan way possible, making space in his bed with a shrug and a "whatever, bro."

He longed for the proximity of another person. It would feel nice on the nights when he woke up from bad dreams, disoriented and afraid, to help him quell his panic.

Lydia paused and avoided Grayson's eyes, hoping she would give the appearance of vacillating between his suggestions. She used the time she bought herself to steady her breathing and slow her heart rate before she shrugged casually and turned to face him fully.

"I mean, there's no sense in you suffering, too. I'm way smaller than you; you'd barely even fit on this," she said as she gestured at the cushion. "If you're okay with it, I wouldn't mind sleeping on a bed for the first time in what, like, a week?"

Gray smiled sympathetically and patted the space next to him. She started to settle before pausing and giving him as apologetic look. His face fell; he knew what she was about to suggest.

"Right," he sighed, lifting his arms above his head while Lydia fished the key out of her sundress pocket. "Better safe than sorry."

"I know it sucks," Lydia empathized as she tied him back to the bed. "It's just for now, though. We just need to make sure we're one hundred percent on his routine, y'know? If he threw us off and came back in tonight, that'd be... not good."

"Are you sure it'll be okay that you're up here? I don't want you to get hurt for this or anything," he said, casting her a worried glance as she leaned across him.

"Don't worry. If he does show up he'll probably just think I'm being a crazy fangirl," she said with a wink. Grayson smiled as she laid down next to him and pulled the sheets up and over them both. She focused intensely on regulating her breathing to keep her excitement at bay as the warmth of his body washed over her beneath the covers.

After a few more nights wherein their captor demonstrated a convenient level of consistency, they decided it was safe to leave Grayson's arms free on the nights when Lydia was able to stay. These nights were euphoric for her, their skin making contact as they shifted in their sleep and Lydia often awaking to find his foot against her calf or her arm against his or some other innocuous, unintentional touch taking place.

She managed to keep calm during the thrill his accidental touch brought her solely because of her furlough from the room. Whenever she removed herself, she took care of the pent up tension in her body and took care to mute the sound of his name falling from her lips, one hand always planted firmly over her own mouth to stifle the blissful refrain as she found release.  
  


* * *

  
On an evening during which the pair slept soundly together, Grayson was visited by another unpleasant vision. This nightmare was far more subtle than some of the obvious imagery his brain had played him like a horror film the past couple of weeks.

He felt like he had been dropped in right in the middle of a dream that was halfway over, yet somehow he knew the plot. He was standing in the middle of a forest, the trees spaced out unrealistically and completely blocking the sky from view. It was winter and the ground was blanketed uniformly in snow, the kind of eerie stillness that winter imparts hanging in the air making the silence feel dense, somehow.

As he looked into the trees, he found himself calling out, timid yet clear, his voice ringing out into the distance: "Ethan?"

As soon as it left his lips, he heard the chorus of the search party rise from the trees. He couldn't see anyone else around him, but their collective cry swelled up as if they surrounded him. "Ethan!"

As if being pulled by an invisible force, he found himself moving forward, walking surefooted through the snow. The ground a few feet ahead of him rose up into a hill devoid of trees. He called again, this time louder and more decidedly. "Ethan?"

He knew he needed to get to the top of that hill. He would know where Ethan was if he got there. He would find him. He reached the end of it and found the snow slipping out from beneath him, feet failing to make traction.

"Ethan!?"

The other voices joined him again, except now they sounded further away as if they were leaving. He wondered desperately why they weren't trying to get up the hill with him. He pitched his body forward, scrambling now with both hands and feet, realizing in vain that he couldn't get up the side of the hill despite how simple it appeared. He looked up at the trees flanking the hill, hoping to use their branches as leverage only to make out that they were impossibly tall and their branches began far too high up for him to grab.

He became vaguely aware of the tears streaming down his face as his heart pounded in his chest, his throat tightening as desperation and sorrow suffocated him. He knew how to find his brother and he couldn't get there even though he could see it, even though it looked so easy. He stumbled as he made one more attempt to climb the hill, screaming his brother's name now.

"Ethan! E! ETHAN!"

Lydia stirred, surprised to find herself waking up until she heard Gray whimpering next to her. As she came to full consciousness, she felt his body twitch and watched as his head rolled from side to side on his pillow. She felt her heart drop when she noticed the wet trails on his cheeks, positive he was having a nightmare about his captivity.

"Ethan!" he yelped between incoherent murmurs.

_Fuck. Nevermind._

She couldn't stand to see him like this, reaching over to gently touch his arm. "Grayson."

When he stayed trapped in his nightmare state, she grabbed his shoulder and shook him, gently at first but harder as he failed to stop groaning his brother's name miserably. "Grayson! Wake up! You're just dreaming, it's okay."

His eyes snapped open suddenly, looking unseeingly at Lydia in his bewilderment. "Huh? Wha-- E? Where's Eth'n? Can't find'im," he whined, words slurring together.

"Shhh, Gray. It's me. It's Lydia."

"Lydia," he breathed, still clearly disoriented. Her name coming off his lips that way made her stomach flip in spite of herself, heat spreading outward from it and reaching into her legs and chest.

"Grayson, Ethan's okay. He isn't missing." _That would be you. I wonder if Ethan has been waking up like this, _she thought to herself remorsefully. She hated seeing Grayson hurting, and she hated imagining Ethan's pain all the same. "No pain, no gain" was a difficult mantra to hold onto in moments like this.

Grayson settled down, hiccupping as his half-hearted sobs began to peter out. His eyes focused on Lydia finally, her hand still on his arm to ground him. She redirected her gaze when she felt the fire in her stomach flare up again, pretending to busy herself with a concerned scan of his heaving chest instead. It didn't really help,considering his panicked dream had made him sweat and his t-shirt was stuck to his torso, muscles clearly defined through the damp fabric.

"Calm down, Gray, you're okay," she said, absentmindedly running her hand back and forth across his bicep. He listened, seeming to be soothed by the motion and by her calm tone, steadying his breathing and lying his head back against his pillow with closed eyes. He brought one hand to the bridge of his nose and squinched his face up, exhaling lightly through his mouth.

"Shhh, that's it," Lydia said encouragingly. "You okay?" He nodded in response, eyes still shut.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she offered, silently hoping that he didn't so she could avoid feeling even more shitty. She would if he needed her to, though.

Grayson dropped his arm and opened his eyes. He turned only his head to look at Lydia, his expression unreadable. She assumed he was mulling over the offer and gave him a small, questioning smile. When he didn't return it, eyes continuing to bore into her, the smile faded.

_He's_ _probably wishing E was here instead of me right now, _she thought sadly, glancing away from Grayson again as the smile was replaced with a frown. _Ugh,__ what a dumb fucking thing to be sad about, Lydia. What did you expect, for him to _not _miss his twin brother__? Jesus, get a grip._

She felt an uncomfortable prickling behind her eyelids and cleared her throat nervously while avoiding his maintained stare, not wanting Gray to notice the change in her demeanor. She tried to play it off, doing her best impression of a lighthearted tone as she said, "Sorry, that was stupid to ask. I'll leave you alone to think." She started to roll over to face away from him. "'Night, Grayson." But his hand on her arm suddenly stopped her.

"Wait, Lydia, c'mere," Grayson whispered, voice so low Lydia almost didn't hear it over the surprised hitch in her breathing. In one swift motion, he rolled her back over to face him and pulled her body against his, lips meeting hers quickly but landing gently.

Lydia froze, her body completely tensed up, her hands balled into fists. She had stopped breathing in the same way someone does when they're trying to go unnoticed by something terrifying. Gray's mouth was softer than she imagined and the feeling of it against hers sent her mind hurtling back through all the years she had imagined a kiss like this one, all the mental scenarios she invented to put herself there. The shock of it happening after nearly five years of pining was inexplicable.

Almost as soon as the shock immobilized her, though, she snapped herself out of it. This was happening. This was _real_. Grayson Dolan was kissing her, and she wasn't about to screw it up by letting fangirl Lydia take over. She felt the chill under her skin give way to the warmth she had already been generating for the past few minutes, melting into Grayson's embrace and returning the kiss slowly, carefully at first, as if she might break him by moving too fast.

Her reciprocation spurred him on to shift their pace, retaining the softness he'd lead with but doing away with caution now. His hand found the back of her head and his mouth moved against hers more fervently. She welcomed the shift, mirroring him as her hands found his chest, fingers grasping at the collar of his shirt. It felt like if she didn't hold onto him he'd disappear, like she was the one dreaming even though she knew she wasn't. The feeling of him was too tangible, too connected to all of her senses.

As he rolled them over so he was pressing her into the mattress, his large frame completely enveloping hers, she pinched herself discreetly on the arm. If this _was_ a dream, she wanted to wake up and face the let-down sooner rather than later. But she was still there, breathing in his scent, electrified by his touch. When his mouth found the soft skin below her jawline and she mewled involuntarily, the moan it elicited from him sent shivers down her spine.

This was the gain she'd been waiting on.

The pain felt far away, like it was gone for good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience in waiting for this chapter! I think it's probably the longest chapter thus far and I spent a lot of time revising it. Creating the dynamic in the room has been one of my favourite parts so far and it was also the most challenging to write, for some reason.
> 
> If you haven't heard it yet, Ida Laurberg released a stripped down version of "Grayzone" that sounds so hauntingly beautiful. It definitely helped me out with the second half of the chapter.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this! Feel free to let me know what you think, as always ♥


End file.
